Chapter 1

“Haaaah, all the packing materials are moved. I guess that’s it for today, right?”

After hauling hundreds of Styrofoam boxes, I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow and collapsed onto the floor.

It feels strange to think about it now, but a plague has been sweeping through the Republic of Korea.

I’m not talking about COVID. This is a much older, more insidious disease, one that’s been around since ancient times and for which no cure has ever been found.

Remarkably, this epidemic is said to exclusively infect married couples in their fifties and sixties, those who have retired and are looking for a life of leisure. The known vectors for this contagion include television programs like I Am a Natural Person[1] and 6 O’Clock My Hometown[2].

I call it ‘Countryside-Calling Disease.’

I still have no idea what possessed my parents, individuals who had resided in Seoul for their entire lives and had never even attempted a weekend gardening project, to suddenly purchase a 4,000-pyeong[3] Shine Muscat grape farm.

…Actually, no, I do know. That one lady who was always pushing my mom to buy into her pyramid scheme must have whispered some nonsense in her ear about an ‘easy way to make money and live a relaxing life in retirement.’

And just like that, filled with the grand ambition and romance of returning to the land, my parents headed down to the countryside, a place they imagined to be full of ‘fresh air, clean water, peace, and good-hearted people.’ They then shelled out a fortune to purchase a farm for Shine Muscat grapes, a fruit that was supposedly ‘so popular with the youth you can’t even keep it in stock.’

When I pointed out that they both had bad backs and asked how they planned to manage a vineyard, they confidently declared that modern equipment made it all perfectly manageable.

And then, exactly one year and four months later…

-‘Sorry, son! I guess we’re city folk after all~ ^^”

…the farm was dumped on me, along with that text message.

It was a perfect storm of circumstances. There was their son, me, conveniently unemployed and adrift thanks to the COVID crisis. There were my parents’ backs, conveniently wrecked by the hard labor of farming. And then there were the other factors: the surprisingly irritating swarms of mosquitoes and bugs in the countryside, the tedious work of pruning and fertilizing, and so on.

“Hooo, and now that everyone and their mother has jumped on the Shine Muscat bandwagon, the bottom has completely fallen out of the market!” I sighed, cracking open a can of beer from the fridge. There was no one around to hear me.

It’s been about five years since I, a city boy through and through in my prime twenties, traded my life in Seoul for this vineyard. I’m probably single-handedly dragging down the average age in this town by a good five years.

Normally, a dyed-in-the-wool urbanite like me would have quit this farming nonsense after a year or two. It would have been the natural order of things.

Unfortunately for me, back when the pandemic was raging, Shine Muscats really were the hot item that was ‘so popular with the youth you couldn’t keep it in stock.’

In other words…

– “The n-net profit is this much? Haha, hahaha! I think I could farm Shine Muscats for another twenty years!”

I had a pretty good run myself.

For the first three years, at least.

But for someone whose attempt at writing a webnovel during unemployment had ended with a pathetic ‘14 views,’ that early success was just too sweet. It was as intoxicating as the taste of those first few successful harvests of Shine Muscat grapes.

“Success… it’s a drug. A real drug. Shouldn’t the government be stopping people from becoming successful? What are the cops in this country even doing?”

I can’t forget that taste, and that’s why I’ve been stuck doing this for five years.

Still, after half a decade, the work has become manageable. The neighbors who initially gave the young bachelor from the city a hard time now look at me with pity, offering to trade potatoes or chickens. I’ve gotten used to spraying pesticides, watering the vines, and pruning the branches, so the burden of running the farm alone has lessened considerably.

Of course, when harvest season rolls around, I’m slammed with more work than one person can possibly handle. But that’s when my parents show up, looking (slightly) apologetic, with a gaggle of starry-eyed, prospective back-to-the-landers they’ve roped into helping. So it all works out.

“Come to think of it… harvest season is just around the corner.”

Looks like this quiet country house of mine is about to get noisy again. The precious free time I’ve managed to carve out for myself is about to disappear.

Ding-dong.

“Ah, it’s here!”

And that means my time for hobbies is about to vanish, too.

“Are you Mr. Kim Lee-sang, right? Could you please sign here?”

“Oh, yes. Yes. Thank you!”

I can’t let that happen.

.

.

.

Beaming a friendly smile at the postal worker, I took the package inside and immediately tore it open.

Inside was none other than the pre-order exclusive edition of this year’s most anticipated open-world stealth-action RPG, Immortal Order: Origin!

It was the long-awaited prequel to the masterpiece series from Hwangsuk Soft,⁶ which depicts a protagonist’s struggle against a secret society operating behind major historical events like the American Revolution, the Civil War, and both World Wars.

I heard this installment would finally reveal the hidden origins and truths of the secret society, which had been shrouded in mystery and endless teasers throughout the series. I’d already been avoiding the internet for two days to prevent any spoilers.

Srrr-tak.

Ah, you can just tell from the meticulous packaging. There’s a special kind of satisfaction in unboxing something like this.

_______________

‘In the 16th century, England, under the rule of Queen Elizabeth I, dispatches colonists to Roanoke Island to establish its first permanent colony in North America. In ‘our world,’ this attempt is known to have ended in catastrophic failure. But what is the truth that lies behind it…?’

_______________

Wow. The localization is perfect. From this day forward, I will bow three times in the direction of the publishing company.

They even included a detailed map and descriptive text of the Roanoke Colony and its surroundings, all designed with a vintage feel.

It’s incredibly well-done. A truly satisfying package.

I spent a whopping 144,000 won on this, all while facing a grape apocalypse where searching for ‘Shine Muscat’ on a portal site brings up blasphemous related searches like ‘Shine Muscat no taste.’

Therefore, this game cannot, under any circumstances, be boring.

No, it’s impossible for it to be boring.

I immediately entered the CD key from the package and swallowed hard. The logo for Hwangsuk Soft, featuring the face of the famously big-eared Mr. Hwangsuk himself, appeared on screen, and the grand, orchestral BGM made my heart pound with anticipation.

Soon, the screen went black. When asked if I wanted to enable Korean voice-over, I selected ‘Yes.’ Flames flickered above the selection window as subtitles and audio began.

-‘You are sufficiently prepared.’

Damn right, I am. I’m so ready.

-‘You are worthy of peering beyond the veil of secrets, beyond hundreds of years of history, to glimpse the truth.’

For 144,000 won[4], it’d better be worthy. It’s only fair.

-‘O, thou who shalt be immortal across the ages, a new world now calls to you.’

-‘Migrate to the New World.’ or ‘Give Up.’

…Migrate to the New World?

That’s weird. The ‘Immortal Order’ series traditionally has a ‘Fight the Order’ button on its start screen. It’s their signature.

Well, whatever. It’s a prequel, so a cool little change like this isn’t so bad. I was thinking this as I moved the mouse.

Fzzt.

A strange, ominous feeling flashed through my mind.

For some reason… for some reason.

Isn’t this the part in webnovels where something bad always happens? Like, the moment I click this start button, I get sucked into the screen or something.

“Hah… I must be losing it, thinking weird stuff like this just because harvest season is almost here.”

Click.

…

…

…

See? Just as I thought, nothing happened.

I smacked myself on the head for having such a dumb thought and stood up to stretch, thinking maybe not enough blood was getting to my brain.

When I turned back to the monitor, a single sentence was written on the black screen.

-‘…You have clearly agreed.’

And then the computer shut down.

“…”

Click. Click.

“…”

It wouldn’t turn back on.